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We took the jeep, now emptied of its supplies, each one more precious than it had been just twenty minutes ago. Only my grandfather’s bow and arrows remained. Rex rode shotgun once more, apparently still trusting my judgment behind the wheel. In the backseat, armed with a scoped hunting rifle, Riley sat in silence, his eyes darting to every shadow on the roadside. None of us spoke as the jeep rolled quietly to a stop in a side alley.
In the middle of the daylit street ahead of us, the looters were scavenging our supplies. A larger crowd had gathered, clawing and clamoring for anything they could grab. Armed bandits formed a perimeter around the SUV, watching the skies and side streets for any approaching threat. The early morning angle of the shadows hid us in darkness.
“See anything useful?”
Rex asked Riley to scout out the area as best he could through the rifle scope. Riley quietly opened the door and stood behind it. Hunched over at the waist, pointing the rifle through the door’s open window, he adjusted the scope and spoke in a whisper.
“Crowd’s mostly women and kids. Most of the men have clubs or knives. I spot, six or seven guns. There’s Hutch and
Riley continued to scan the crowd as Rex and I tried to think of a plan. I didn’t like our odds.
“We wait until dark. Follow them back to wherever they’re holed up. Sneak our boys out and let them keep the supplies. For now.”
I wasn’t sure if Rex was issuing definitive commands or just thinking out loud. It wasn’t much of a plan and it sure wasn’t sound thinking.
“The longer we stay here the easier we’ll be to spot. Besides, if we wait until dark the rest of our group will think we’re caught, or dead.”
Rex wasn’t ready to budge yet.
“We can hide out until then, keep an eye on them. We can catch up with the others later.”
“Do I have to remind you that those things are still out there? We can’t watch our friends, our enemies and the skies all at the same time.”
Rex seemed to take my comment to heart. I waited for him to suggest another plan.
“What do you have in mind then, John?”
The question caught me off guard. I didn’t know at the time whether it was sarcastic or serious. I decided on the latter.
“Riley, slide over. Let me see.”
I scanned the scene with the rifle scope, focusing on the men who held our friends captive. Not surprisingly, I found something I could use. I offered the rifle back over to Riley.
“If I put up the scout sign, take him out.”
I showed Riley a three-fingered salute, one I hadn’t used in years. He nodded and settled back behind the scope.
“Which one?”
His eye squinted and the rifle barrel swung in slow, small arcs.
“The big red-head standing over Hutch.”
I take my 9mm out and hold it above my head with one hand. The American way of saying “I come in peace.”
“Just where do you think you’re going?”
I tell Rex to trust me, that Riley won’t have to kill anyone today.
I walk out of the shadows and into the light, hands above my head. It takes a few seconds for the bandits to spot me. Their guns train on me as I step slowly toward the SUV. The women and children scatter back to their homes and the men come around to face me, brandishing their weapons.
“Stop there, drop your weapon!”
One of them shouts, I’m not sure who, but I comply.
“Rudy! It’s Johnny Rysk! From highschool!”
I shout towards the big red-head, hoping my eyesight wasn’t mistaken. I can’t imagine there are too many oversized, curly-haired red-heads with pig noses and gapped teeth running around this neighborhood. I just hope he remembers my name on good terms.
I stop and wait for them to come to me. He exchanges words with the shirtless man that had been screaming for help in the road earlier that morning. The two approach me, with another gun-toting guard.
“You say Johnny Rysk?”
Thank god, it’s Rudy. I never thought I’d be glad to see that face.
“Yeah Rudy, it’s Johnny. You’ve got two of our guys over there.”
The shirtless guy trains his gun on me while the other man searches me for weapons. Rudy looks around in confusion.
“Where you come from?”
“We're headed out to the old military base. Looks like you have a lot of people. You should come with us.”
The shirtless guy speaks up. He’s shorter than me and smaller than either of his companions, but something about his voice commands respect.
“Our people are dug in here. We’re surviving as best we can.”
“By looting and kidnapping?”
There I go, running my fool mouth again. One thing I get from my grandfather, no doubt.
“Boy, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but the world is going to shit. Won’t be long until it’s every man for himself. We’re just watching out for our own.”
“So are we. You’ve got two of my friends and a truck full of our supplies. I’ve got more friends and more supplies waiting. Join us.”
The companion speaks up and brings his gun up level to my face.
“Why not just save the trouble and put you and your friends down here?”
So much for civilized. I can almost feel Riley slide the gun barrel slightly to the right, accounting for the wind.
“You can do that. But I’ve got friends, all around here. You’ll get me, for sure. But you won’t get far.”
Thug looked around at the empty buildings and abandoned rooftops, thought about testing my bluff. He didn’t get the chance.
“Sky, sky, sky!”
The alarm went out behind the three men. Their eyes shot up above us. Thug was vaporized in an instant.
“Scatter!”
Men ran everywhere as a lone alien sentinel descended upon the group, firing its strange weapon into the crowd. Each shot was a precision aim, wasting no motion in disintegrating its target. In the chaos, I ran towards Hutch and
The bandits had taken refuge and began firing back at the alien. The attempts were as useless as always, but at least they distracted the solider for a moment.
“You have the keys?”
I shouted to Hutch over the gunfire and screams.
“In the ignition. Idiots never took them out.”
“Get in and drive, the old tunnels by the Fern Creek exit. Go!”
Hutch and
Off to my left, one of the bandits had decided that since the aliens couldn’t be defeated, he’d train his weapon on me. A clear shot rang out, spun the man back and he went down hard. I didn’t look to see if he got up as I dove into the shadowy alley.
“Nice shot.”
Riley nodded from behind the still smoking gun barrel. Rex gunned the throttle as Riley and I jumped into the jeep. The tires squealed as we rocketed out of the alley, eager to catch up with Hutch and
“Light him up!”
Each of us fired our weapons, each of us leaning out of our windows in gangland fashion. It was sloppy. It was dire. It was futile. Even with assistance from the bandits shooting the alien in the back, not one shot found its way through. The sentinel raised his laser-equipped arm to finish us off. I had one final crazy thought before I was burned to cinders.
I jumped out of the door and ran to the back hatch. Throwing it open, I grabbed my grandfather’s bow and an arrow out of the quiver. I nocked it against the string and pulled back while inhaling, just like Grandpa Jack had shown me. For a second, the hovering alien seemed to regard me with curiosity. It tilted its head to one side, the same inquisitive look it had given my Grandfather before hauling him off into the sky. I exhaled and loosed the arrow.
Where bullets had failed, where mortars had fallen, my arrow sang true. It split the space between alien and armor, pierced them both and drove half through the monster before lodging in place. Something akin to grinding metal gears rent the air. An extraterrestrial scream.
No blood poured forth, but the thing was clearly wounded. It slumped to one side in the air and struggled to hover evenly. The shrieking metal scream sounded again before it rocketed off into the sky, limping its way home.
The gunfire stopped. No mortal made a sound as the screaming, wounded alien disappeared into the distant sky. All eyes turned to me, to the answer in my hands. Rex alone spoke.
“And the hand of the god Apollo guides the arrow of
I couldn’t help but smile in that most surreal moment of my life to date. I placed the mighty bow over my head and around my chest. The mighty bow of Grandpa Jack. I couldn’t help but laugh at how history might remember it. But for the first time since they arrived, I truly believed we humans would still have a history.
Since I could remember, Grandpa Jack’s big, rambling house had only ever been occupied by the two of us. Now, a week after the arrival, the house is full of strangers.
Refugees. Orphans. Rich and poor alike. Most have come here seeking sanctuary. Some have come for revenge.
“One of them killed my husband right in front of my eyes. Just, just pointed at him, a beam of light, then gone. My life, gone, in an instant.”
The woman, Rita, is standing in my living room amongst a circle of survivors. It’s become a tradition over these past few days; a new member of our growing family tells their story. We all agreed. Tell your story and people understand you, remember you. Tell your story and you live on. Even if you’re vaporized or hauled away tomorrow, tonight your life will be remarked.
“We are glad to have you with us, Rita. Thank you for sharing. Please, help yourself to some food.”
Rex speaks for our group, the only one that speaks at all really. His story starts like the rest of ours, only seven short days ago. Rex was with the military, watched the organization crumble into chaos from the top down. Lost friends, lost faith, lost patience. He showed up a few days ago, just after Grandpa Jack was abducted. He wandered in here hoping to gather a resistance. I was his first recruit.
“Welcome, Rita.”
The group speaks in unison once Rex has said his peace.
Funny the way it is. These people hide in my house, eat the food I provide, but I don’t yet feel like I’m one of them. A dozen or so of them all stand and move into the makeshift dining area where a buffet is laid out. They comfort Rita with small talk and smiles. Rex hangs back.
“John, a word please.”
Rex and I aren’t exactly friends. We’re about as opposite as you can get. He’s middle-aged, combat hardened and decisive. I can barely pick which cereal I’ll eat in the morning, if I even wake up before noon. Rex takes me aside.
“John, we can hold out here a few more days, but I think it would be wise to move somewhere more secure. Somewhere with better resources, better protection.”
I nod stupidly. It’s not that I don’t care, but I’m still numb. This was the only place I’ve ever really lived. Without Grandpa Jack around, it holds almost no meaning at all anymore.
“Whatever you think is best, Captain,” I tell him. Rex gives me a fatherly smile and a strong grip to my shoulder. I don’t know what he has in mind but I trust his judgment.
“Will you look at that! So much for ‘take me to your leader’!”
High pitched laughter cackles in the front room. As Rex goes to spread the word about our impending sojourn, I check up on Tyler and AJ to see what trouble they’re getting into now. They’re parked in front of the TV with a handful of others.
“Can you believe this?”
AJ is speaking no one in particular.
On the screen, a small contingent of alien beings have descended from the main ship. They’re standing on a hovering platform about the size of my living room. The three central figures appear differently from the alien soldiers flanking them on either side. They all have that same grayish armor and smooth, polished faces with no visible features. They all tower over even the tallest human and their knees all bend in the same wrong direction. The differences are subtle. A touch of color here or there. A mark or brand on the armor. Like rank insignias or symbols of valor or royalty.
“Here they come!”
A procession of limos and town cars roll down
The haggard Secret Service members form a line from the incoming parade of vehicles to the floating alien reception committee. Local officials, the mayor, state representatives, senators and the Vice President himself file out of the cars. I can see the shaking hands of the elite guard of humanity’s leaders straying towards their pistols. The alien honor guard stands stoically.
“Makes sense. Why be taken to our leader if we can bring our leaders to them?”
Hutch appears next to me. I don’t know how long he’s been there watching. I guess we’re all a little drawn in.
The Vice President steps forward and extends his hand in a gesture of friendship. The central alien figure mimics his motion. I notice two golden suns patterned on his armor, one on each shoulder.
Hutch is breathing heavy next to me. His jaw is clenched and so are my fists as we watch our country’s leaders step up onto the alien platform. The tension eases only after the platform raises back into the sky, into the belly of the mothership. No shots fired, no lives lost.
“What are they doing up there, ya think?” AJ asks.
“Negotiating,” Hutch answers.
AJ seems about ready to ask what that word means. Before he can, Rex appears dressed to the teeth in combat gear and weaponry, his Green Beret perched immaculately atop his head. He hands Hutch and myself a pistol each. Rex is holding a pump action shotgun.
“What’s this about?” Hutch asks. Rex racks a shell into the chamber.
“Negotiation.”
They’ve arrived.
For the past 24 hours the drone ships have been hounding our steps. They scan and patrol without rest, sometimes vaporizing people on the spot, sometimes engaging in pointless skirmishes with the military.
Now that the mothership had settled in over downtown, the drones have retreated to her and circle her bulk like orbiting moons. For the moment we can breathe.
The brave have ventured outside to see the spectacle with their own eyes rather than through the lens of a news camera. I guess we should be thankful. Our power is still on and our water still runs clear. Lines of communication are open, though bogged down by the sheer volume of traffic. It seems no one is sleeping.
Grandpa Jack and I remained indoors, inside the same house he lived in all his life, the same house in which he raised me. Many days we’ve walked out onto the deck together to look down on the converging rivers and the steel island that sprung up between them. From the mountainside we can see the river valley stretching out below us in all directions. Now the giant airship draws our attention. We share the view with others seeking refuge from the drones.
A young white couple in their early thirties and a little Hispanic girl, about five years old. I don’t think they’re related. Since the aliens arrived, those questions don’t matter much anymore. We’ve all become family.
We watch in silence as the airship and its clones hover over our beloved city. The couple thanks us and say they’re going to try to get back home before the drones come back. They’re taking the girl with them. I’m happy to hear that. I’ve got enough to handle here just watching out for myself and Grandpa Jack.
As they scurry down the street, a new development causes the news crews to speak in rapid voices and excited tones. A flurry of activity appears as a swarm of gnats around the drone ships. Gray dots speckle the blue sky.
They’re moving. Fast.
A news copter zooms in on the action. What appear to be suits of armor begin falling out of one end of each drone ship. Hundreds of them. Each freefalls a moment and then takes flight, their means of propulsion unknown.
They’re everywhere.
The people downtown have gathered in the streets and on the rooftops, for what purpose I don’t know. Now the majority of them scatter. Some of the armored suits land amongst them. A camera pans on the action. Though it’s shaky, Grandpa Jack and I can make them out. They seem to stand about 8 to 10 feet tall. Their knees bend the wrong way. Their armor is made of that same gray, shimmering haze.
A few citizens open fire on the alien soldiers, accompanied by rogue military members. The rounds bounce off, harmlessly. Most of the armored soldiers hover a few feet off of the ground, merely wading through the crowds as if they were in search of something. Some of them fire a strange looking blaster on their forearm. Anyone caught in its light is vaporized. Now the panic really starts.
There are screams from outside our door. The alien soldiers have spread throughout the city. They scan the streets and houses, vaporizing some and ignoring others. The couple that had taken refuge in our home made it only a block or two away before the soldiers appeared. The man was vaporized before my eyes. The woman screams in incomprehensible agony.
An armored solider lands on its feet in front of the little girl. It looks down upon her with towering menace. The girl is frozen. The woman is screaming. I can only watch.
Grandpa Jack pushes me aside and wheels himself through the door way.
“Fight me, you bastards!” he screams, ratcheting his wheels as fast he can down the wooden ramp. The alien soldier looks from the little girl to the old man. Its face is featureless and smooth, but I get the sense that it gives the wheelchair bound veteran an inquisitive look. Then it bends its unnatural knees and scoops up the little girl, rocketing off towards the mothership before any of us can react.
Grandpa Jack had reached the end of the ramp before I could catch up to him and drag him back. By the time I reach his chair, it’s too late. Another alien solider appears from above, hooks him under the arms and hauls him off into the clear blue sky. I stand there a moment and watch their ascent, just one pair among many.
All around me my neighbors are being vaporized or culled like cattle. They are choosing those with specific qualities. They are harvesting us. For what I don’t know.
Grandpa Jack’s wheelchair lays toppled over in the grass, its free wheel still spinning. I’m left alone with chaos unfolding all around me. The only parent I’ve ever known is gone now. The only life I’ve ever lived has ended.
Today, I begin to find a way to fight back.
“They may have fired first, but our guns are bigger,” said Grandpa Jack. The old man could still remember the twin bombs Little Boy and Fat Man being dropped on Japanese villagers. I believed he really thought our American muscle would get us through this. The slight tremor in his voice was the only indication that he wasn’t completely confident in our victory or our survival.
An old war veteran of 100 plus years and me, a 25 year old college dropout, sitting together watching what could be the end of the world on our 15 inch TV screen. We had just seen a demonstration of the alien technology. We watched now as our brave soldiers attacked the ship from the ground below. I couldn’t help but fear for them, and for us, some 400 miles away.
“You watch, boy, we’ll whip ‘em good,” said Grandpa Jack, unable to take his eyes off of the screen. After that strange swarm dismantled the helicopter earlier, it hadn’t taken long for the ground troops stationed at the safe zone to move in and open fire. The city became a war zone, a chaotic port town defending its fleeing citizens from some unknown menace.
The floating ship continued sending out tiny clouds of what looked like insects swarming in a burst of hazy air. Every mortar, rifle or rocket they came into contact with instantly fell to pieces. Ambitious soldiers took the time to reconstruct their weapons only to have a second shot pull them apart again. Tanks fell to pieces around their stunned drivers, the welds and tread locks dismantling on impact.
The ground under the alien behemoth became littered with unspent missile fragments and small arms ammunition. It was hard to tell from the TV footage but it didn’t look like anything we fired had made a scratch in the hovering menace. The ground troops quickly ran out of options and functional weaponry. Not a moment too soon three fighter jets screamed onto the scene, rocking the nearby news helicopters hovering to record the chaos.
“The cavalry’s arrived!” yelled Grandpa Jack. The old man actually stood up for a moment and hollered in excitement before crashing back down into his easy chair. I couldn’t tell if he was enjoying the fight, thinking it was an afternoon movie, or if he was really as terrified on the inside as I was. A part of me prayed that Grandpa Jack was right, that our technology would prove superior and this would be our turning point.
The jets rocketed into and out of the frame, all the while circling the giant airship like sharks around a whale. Tracer fire lit up the sky, cutting bright trails blazing toward the alien craft. The skin of the ship shimmered and rippled, shrugging off the machine gun fire. Hot lead rained down onto the ground in torrents. Not one bullet managed to snipe its way through the alien armor.
News copters pulled back from the area and captured the scope of the skirmish with their cameras. As the pilots realized their bullets were having no effect, one of them loosed a rocket into the belly of the ship. In a blink, the missile made contact, appeared to be swallowed by a bulge in the ship’s side and fell to the ground in pieces, harmless and undetonated.
Before another rocket could be fired, a burst formed from the ship and detached, chasing the jet through the sky. For a moment I thought the pilot might be able to evade it. But it appeared the strange swarm was simply toying with its target.
“Bastards,” grumbled Grandpa Jack. We stared in disbelief as the jet fell apart, its velocity pitching the pilot forward and gravity pulling him down to the ground, surrounded by his piecemeal plane. Luckily his chute opened to slow his fall, though he still slammed into the ground hard, then lay motionless. That was all the invitation the other pilots needed to open fire.
Missiles, flares and tracer fire assailed the alien ship without success. They struck the armored sides whole and functional, became swallowed up by the strange swarms and then fell in impotent pieces to the ground below. The second jet met a similar fate to its predecessor when it collided with a swarm burst and fell scattered to the Earth.
The final pilot was out of weapons and out of his league, but not out of options. As the frantic news reporter announced the pilot’s final act of desperation, the jet rocketed towards the ship with no intention of stopping. Rather than become a swallowing, swarming mass, the alien armor seemed to harden. The jet exploded on impact in a massive fireball.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” said Grandpa Jack. Tears streamed down his face as he remembered in that instant all of the soldiers and friends he’d lost throughout his long life. I held his hand as the air raid sirens sounded through the TV speakers. It sounded like a banshee wail signaling the end of the City that Never Sleeps.
A few brave journalists remained at Ground Zero even as the final evacuation order went out. A full two-thirds of
Grandpa and I watched in reverent silence, along with the rest of the world, as three missiles slammed into the ship. The behemoth rocked to one side from the impact. A full bloom of its armor shifted to meet the missiles at the point of contact. The silver skin flowed outward and down, forming an umbrella-shaped shield that reflected the nuclear explosion away from the ship. The last image we saw before the cameras and their operators were vaporized was a column of bright light mushrooming out from beneath the ship, scorching the Earth, sea and sky.
Reports drifted in over the next few hours. A massive section of the city had been leveled and millions were dead or dying. When the dust cleared, the alien menace remained, quite unharmed. The panic didn’t set in until the ship began to move. It traveled slowly at first, attracting an entourage of ground and air-based escorts, all attacking the ship seemingly without organization, direction or success. Soldiers vented their frustrations on the hovering leviathan, attempting to slow its progress or somehow destroy it completely. Over slow miles, their ambitious attack never wavered, but neither did the behemoth’s ever westward movement.
It wasn’t until the next day that we realized the ship was heading for us.
